


first course of the meal

by valiantlybold



Series: wolf in lark's clothing [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Character Turned Into Vampire, Established Relationship, M/M, Mob Boss Jaskier, Non-Graphic Violence, Supernatural Elements, Unrequited Love, Vampires, Werewolves, eskel is an anxious bean, kept boy lambert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23133043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantlybold/pseuds/valiantlybold
Summary: Eskel didn't think hiscandorwould be what got him a job like this.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: wolf in lark's clothing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640455
Comments: 8
Kudos: 329





	1. Chapter 1

“You workin’ tonight?”

Eskel sighs, head falling back against the wall with a thud. “Yeah. Just my fuckin’ luck, right?”

“I’m just glad they don’t make _me_ do it,” Geralt mutters and sips his beer.

“Wish I was as grumpy as you,” Eskel teases. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to do shit like this either.”

Geralt shrugs. “The grumpiness is a gift. Gotta be born with it.”

Eskel chuckles. He sips his beer too. He glances at the clock on the wall. Fuck, forty minutes until he needs to be at the restaurant.

There’s a weird rich guy who sometimes spends fuck knows how much money to rent out the entire restaurant just him and his date.

Eskel knows this, because he works at said restaurant.

He doesn’t know much about the guy, only what he’s heard from his coworkers. All he really knows for a fact is that every now and then, this _Lambert_ guy rents out the whole restaurant; all waiters except one is given the night off and kitchen staff is cut down to two people, because Lambert likes his privacy.

All the waiters take turns being the one to cover _that_ night. Eskel has had the luck so far, to not be the one assigned this particular shift. But now, it seems as though his luck has finally turned and it has fallen to him. Geralt’s the only one who never has to do it because everyone knows he’d probably grunt his way into getting Lambert to _never_ return. And while that does sound favorable to Eskel right now, he knows his manager would strangle them both, because Lambert is their best customer.

“I should get ready. They’ll have my head if I’m late.”

Geralt hums as Eskel throws back the last of his beer and gets up from the couch. “Text when you wrap up the shift. I’ll order pizza.”

“Sounds good.”

Eskel grabs a quick shower; he brushes his teeth carefully and gargles mouthwash two times over. The boss would rip him a new one if he came to work with beer-breath, _tonight of all nights._

Uch, he still hates how the bow-tie feels around his neck, but you do what you have to do, he figures. As always, Geralt scans over him, makes sure he looks decent (a habit they’ve both picked up since working at the restaurant, after getting chewed out a few times each for crooked bow-ties and sloppily tucked shirts). Once he’s _Geralt approved,_ he’s out the door.

The restaurant is eerily empty when he gets there. The whole place has been cleared out, only one small table for two remaining. He’ll have to remember to thank the day crew for doing that part of the prep work. The kitchen is in full swing to prepare, despite the staff shortage. Eskel sets the lone table; he spreads the tablecloth, he lights the candles and primps the roses, he lines up the glasses and the cutlery and folds the napkins, and puts out the menus. He lowers the lights and turns on the sound system to play music on a low volume, all to get the atmosphere right. He ticks each thing off the list his boss made for him and that he memorized, then he checks his watch and waits by the door.

Right on time, a man and a woman step into the restaurant.

“Mister Shaw?” Eskel says, putting on his best smile.

“That’s me,” the man confirms.

“Welcome. Please, let me take your coats.”

Shaw removes his coat quickly and hands it over, then assists the lady with hers. He wears a black suit, while she wears a blood red cocktail dress. She attaches herself to Shaw’s arm.

“Please, have a seat and I’ll join you in a moment.”

Eskel hurries into the coat check while the guests step further into the restaurant. He handles their coats carefully; he is _not_ going to do anything to mess this up. He joins them at the table shortly, though, while they are both scanning over the drinks section of the menu.

“Shall we start with drinks, sir? Miss?” he poses politely.

“Yes,” Lambert, _Mister Shaw,_ confirms again. “I think I’ll have one of the dark ales. What’s on tap?”

“Currently, we have an ale from a local microbrewery, _Cintra,_ as well as Nilfgaardian dark and light. Personally, I would suggest the Cintran. They might be small, but they do great work.”

Lambert hums. “Let’s go with the Cintran, then.”

“Certainly, sir. And for the miss?”

The blonde woman look up at him through her long, dark lashes. Her eyes bore into his fucking _soul._

“The Zerrikanian red,” she tells him. “Whichever vintage you think is best.”

“Of course, miss. Would you like to order now, or would you like some more time?”

She hums. “I’ll have the duck,” she says, not looking away from Eskel.

The waiter clears his throat. “Have you decided as well, sir?”

“Yes, I’ll have the steak. Rare. _Very_ rare.”

“Certainly. I’ll be back in minute with your drinks.”

They pass him the menus and he hurries to the kitchen. The chefs start working. Eskel prepares the ordered drinks.

He tries to work on auto and disconnect his brain.

_It’s none of his business, it’s none of his business, it’s none of his business, it really is none of his business that every account he’s heard from his coworkers describe Shaw coming in with a different companion every time and they all seem equally enthralled by the spectacle of having a whole restaurant rented just for them, it’s none of his business that Shaw clearly has some sort of perfect plan he just puts on repeat (no doubt to get in the pants of whatever companion he decides to bring with him). It’s totally none of his business._

He walks as he’s done a million times, balancing his tray perfectly.

“There we are, sir, miss,” he says as he delivers their drinks. “And your meal should be ready shortly. Give a shout if you need me.”

“Thank you, Eskel,” the woman says, reading the tag clipped to his shirt.

“My pleasure, miss.”

He escapes back to the kitchen.

She seems nice. It’s a shame Shaw’s dragging her through this whole routine.

_Nope. Stop right there. Not his business._

He’s just the waiter. He isn’t going to get involved. He really isn’t.

He waits in the kitchen. He helps the chefs out where he can, but they’ve got most of it covered. There isn’t much for him to do until they’re finished and plated. Eskel delivers swiftly, the guests thanking him politely, before he once more escapes back to the kitchen.

He sits down across from the door on a bar stool; he’s got a perfect angle, he knows. He can see into the restaurant through the small window in the door, but the guests can’t see him.

Eskel watches them.

They seem…almost in love with each other. They look at each other with something soft in their eyes. The woman, Lambert has called her Dandilion last time Eskel was out there, she smiles at Shaw all the time. She never _not_ smiles at him. Now and then, they reach across the table to touch the other’s hand, to entwine their fingers for a moment. Under the table, their legs are tangled together too. It’s like they just can’t ever fully tear themselves away from each other.

Eskel feels bad for her.

He’s pretty sure she has no clue what Shaw’s doing; what he does here, at the restaurant, on an almost monthly basis.

Eskel is conflicted. It really, _really_ isn’t any of his business, but…. He _knows_ that if he were in Dandilion’s position, he would want to know what was going on. He has no clue what she’ll think of it, if she even cares, but doesn’t she deserve to know? If she’s just another in a long line to Shaw, and she so obviously cares _a lot_ about him, doesn’t she deserve to know this stuff?

He spots their plates going empty. As he gets up, Shaw does the same. He seems to excuse himself from the table, then walk away towards the bathrooms. Eskel leaves the kitchen. Dandilion smiles at him as he approaches.

“The food was lovely, Eskel,” she says, her voice soft to him. “Please, give my compliments to the chef.”

Eskel nods as he sets menus down on the table and he takes their plates. “I’ll pass it along, miss. As for dessert, I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”

“Thank you,” she says as she takes one of the menus and flips through it to the dessert section.

Eskel walks away.

_Shaw’s gone, this is his chance if he was looking for one, he could just tell her now then hide in the kitchen, she seems so nice and she deserves to be treated well like any other person, and-_

Fuck.

Eskel stops halfway to the kitchen.

_Fuck!_

He turns on his toes and goes back to the table. Dandilion looks up at him, a little confused.

“I-… Shaw.”

Her brows furrow at him. “Yes? What about him?”

“He’s… He’s here all the time. With people. Different people. Like this. Alone. Rents out the whole restaurant and brings a date and it’s always someone different.”

The woman’s brows furrow tighter.

“I just-… I dunno what that means. But I- I thought you should know.”

“Oh.”

Eskel clears his throat. “I-I-I’m sorry. It’s none of my business, I’m sorry,” he says quickly.

He almost sprints to the kitchen in his desperation to get away from that _situation._

He regrets everything.

He _especially_ regrets it, when he has to go back out just a few minutes later to take their dessert orders. The atmosphere out there is tense, but perhaps that’s just him. Shaw seems unaffected, like nothing has changed, so Eskel can only presume Dandilion hasn’t said anything about what Eskel told her. She doesn’t look at Eskel, nor does he see her look at Shaw.

He paces in the kitchen as the chefs prepare the dessert. He delivers it to the guests quietly and has to try very hard not to suffocate in the thick, tense air. He continues to pace.

He can’t hear raised voices, so at least they’re not shouting at each other. Is that a good thing? Or is it a bad thing? It feels like Dandilion maybe should be yelling at Shaw, if she’s been lied to. But…maybe she hasn’t been lied to? Maybe she already knew! Maybe it doesn’t matter to her! It feels like it should matter. Maybe Eskel’s got it all wrong. It really was none of his business, after all. He’s got no clue about the circumstances _outside_ the restaurant! Maybe this is normal for them! Maybe this is just the way their _relationship_ works, how is _Eskel_ supposed to know? He doesn’t know them, he doesn’t know anything about their lives or their relationship! Maybe he overstepped. No, yeah, he probably _did_ overstep. _It’s none of his business!_ And he still decided to _meddle!_

Twenty minutes later, his heart races as he goes out to take their plates and refill their drinks. This time, Dandilion _doesn’t stop_ looking at him. She stares at him like she wants to read his mind, and it almost feels like she can.

Eskel hyperventilates when he gets back to the kitchen.

The chefs start cleaning up their work-spaces. Eskel paces. He tallies up the check in his mind and gets it ready.

He fears going back out there, but he knows he has to.

Shaw pays in cash, as Eskel hears he always does. Crisp hundred dollar bills slid neatly into the small leather booklet, and another bill just like them goes straight into Eskel’s hand.

“Sir, I-I-I’m grateful, really, but I-” Eskel says, attempting to be polite, it doesn’t feel right to accept a tip like that.

Shaw raises his hand, waving him off. “Don’t be silly, it’s well-earned. I insist.”

Eskel swallows. He wonders if it’s more impolite to refuse the tip, rather than to accept it. He shoves the bill in his pocket and tries not to think about it.

“Alright, sir. Um. Please, take your time, enjoy your drinks,” Eskel tells them, then turns to leave.

_“Eskel?”_

The waiter stops short. The way Dandilion says his name has… _something_ in it. Eskel can’t put his finger on what that something is, but he can _feel it._

He turns back around. He swallows tightly, and smiles again. _Always smile at the customer._

“Yes, miss? What can I do for you?”

She rests her pretty face in her hand, looking up at Eskel, studying him. Shaw smirks like he knows what she is thinking. He says nothing, only enjoying whatever this little show is.

“How much do you make an hour, Eskel?”

The question takes him off guard. It really wasn’t what he was expecting. He’s not sure what he was expecting but that really wasn’t it.

“Um. About…eight bucks?”

Dandilion hums, smiling. “Lambert, love, give him the card.”

Eskel has no clue what’s going on here. Shaw reaches into one of his pockets and withdraws a small card-case, from which he takes a business card. He offers it to Eskel, who takes it mostly by automatics. The card is made of hard black paper, a buttercup printed in gold on one side and a phone number, also in gold, on the other side.

The flower must be a logo, right? Eskel has never seen it before, though. He doesn’t recognize it.

“Call that number sometime tomorrow, darling,” Dandilion tells him.

She drinks back the last of her wine in one.

“Maybe there’s a better paying job in it for you.”

She stands up, and Shaw follows her lead. They walk away.

Eskel stands frozen there for a moment, staring at the card.

Then he comes back to himself.

He shoves the card in his pocket too, then runs after them. He brushes past them and slips into the coat-check, quickly grabbing their coats for them.

They make to leave.

But Dandilion stops.

She stands just before Eskel, looking at him with deep, soulful eyes again. She reaches out to him. He’s too _everything_ to stop her as she caresses his cheek.

“Such a pretty face,” she says softly. “I’d love to try it out some day.”

She steps away, Shaw’s arm winding around her waist.

“Don’t forget to call,” she says then.

They both give him the same knowing little smiles as they leave.

_What the fuck?_

*

They eat pizza in silence.

Eskel hasn’t told Geralt about... Well. Anything, really. Not that Geralt seems to mind. He’s never been the kind to pry, but whenever Eskel talks, he listens. He’s a good guy.

Might be why Eskel’s been madly fucking in love with him since he was five, but that’s neither here nor there.

The business card and the hundred dollar bill feel like they’re burning a hole in Eskel’s pocket.

He still has no clue what the fuck happened tonight.

_I’d love to try it out some day._

What the fuck does that even mean? _Try it out?_ What was she saying?

Sex, he can only assume. What else would she be talking about?

But what about the job she was talking about, then?

Was she-

Did she-

Was she asking him to be-

Oh, God, they were offering him a job as a hooker, weren’t they?

He grabs another slice of pizza and tries not to panic.

Eskel has all the respect in the world for sex workers, that’s not it, and he knows it’s a rough profession. He might’ve taken some cash for a quick blowie once or twice just after leaving home, when money was tight and he was struggling to make rent, and even just _that_ almost got him his teeth kicked in a few times. He can’t imagine doing that full-time!

Yeah, if it’s a whole business thing, then maybe he’d be better off with them than he was on his own; they probably do their homework and take care of their employees, but isn’t that also a worry? If he takes the job, will he be signing away pretty much his whole life? He’s heard horror stories, y’know! 'Pimps' trapping their workers with drugs and debts and threats and violence, a-and Eskel isn’t sure he can handle all that!

But saying no will be impossible too, right? If they’re willing to do all that stuff to people who already work for them, Lord knows what they’d be willing to do to _him!_ Maybe this is all more of a demand than an offer!

Eskel gets up.

He starts to pace, like he always does when he’s thinking too hard.

He wrings his hands and rubs at his brow.

A job is a job, sure, but Eskel just doesn’t want to get wrapped up in any mess! He’s too anxious for that shit, he’d have a fucking heart attack!

“Eskel?”

Maybe he can negotiate his way out of it! Offer his services in another area, instead!

“Eskel.”

He’s a pretty big guy, and he can be intimidating when he feels like it, so maybe he could just provide back-up for the actual hookers!

“Eskel, c’mon.”

Y’know, just be the guy who looks out for them on the ground! He’s sure he’d be much better at something like that, rather than being the one doing the hooking!

_“Eskel!”_

He stops short in his well-trodden path around the living room when Geralt appears in his way.

It registers with Eskel that his heart is beating uncomfortably fast, and every breath seems too small to fill his lungs.

Geralt knows better than to touch him when he’s like this, so he doesn’t reach for him. He only stands there, looking at Eskel’s feet because he also knows Eskel can’t stand feeling _eyes_ on him at in times such as this.

“Eskel. What kinda disaster scenarios is that anxious brain'a yours spinnin’ up now?” Geralt asks gently. “C’mon, talk to me.”

He swallows. He wrings his hands tighter, weighing from foot to foot.

“It’s... Well. It’s a job offer. I guess.”

“Hm. Go on.”

Fuck, Eskel can’t stand still.

“And it’s not the kind if job i ever saw myself doing,” he says, swerving around Geralt to continue pacing. “But it pays well. I think. But I’d have to...do stuff. Stuff I dunno if I _can_ do.”

Geralt steps back, no longer blocking Eskel’s path.

“Say no, then.”

 _“It’s not that simple!”_ Eskel tells him.

“Why not?” Geralt poses, shrugging.

“I- Um. I don’t-”

Wait. Why wouldn’t he be able to say no? He should be able to say no.

 _“Fuck,_ you’re right. I can say no. Right? I can say no?”

“Course you can say no,” Geralt tells him. “If it’s not a job you want, then _don’t take it._ They can’t force you.”

“Right,” Eskel says, trying to take a few deep breaths “You’re right. I can just... _not call._ Pretend it never happened.”

“Exactly. That’ll send them a pretty clear message.”

Eskel slows, then stops.

Geralt is right. He knows that. He really does. He just… Sometimes, Eskel’s brain just isn’t his friend and like Geralt said, it spins out into disaster scenarios and it doesn’t _stop_ spinning until either he crashes or Geralt manages to right him back out of it.

He can just not call them. He can drop the card in the trash and pretend tonight never happened. That’s alright. He’s allowed to do that. He doesn’t owe those people anything.

“C-Can… Can you hug me?”

Geralt hums. He crosses the living room slowly, as though afraid he might spook a wild animal. He steps close to Eskel very carefully, clearly signaling his moves and intentions, allowing Eskel every opportunity to back out if he needs to.

But Eskel doesn’t want to back out.

He leans into Geralt and lets himself be embraces. He doesn’t hug back, but Geralt doesn’t mind, he knows, Eskel never hugs back when he’s like this; he just needs the reassurance of being held, of knowing he’s not alone. He leans his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

It helps calm his racing heart and slow his rapid breaths.

The hug feels good, but it also puts an ache in Eskel’s chest. He wishes Geralt would hug him more often. He wishes Geralt would notice him. _Really_ notice him. In the way that Eskel always _notices_ Geralt.

Eskel goes to bed and tries not to think about anything at all.

*

Geralt has the brunch shift at the restaurant, so he’s gone by the time Eskel wakes up.

Eskel sits in the kitchen, staring at the golden flower on the card while he eats his cereal.

Maybe he should call. Just...to say thank you for the offer but politely decline. He already has a job he likes perfectly alright.

He pulls out his phone. It takes him a minute to mentally prepare, but soon enough, he’s dialing the number printed on the back of the card.

It rings a few times.

A man answers, and Eskel introduces himself. After that, he can’t get a word in edgewise. The man talks raptly and excitedly, and very much on his own decides that Eskel should come meet him and discuss things in person; and well, Eskel is not very good at saying no so he ends up agreeing. The man seems pleased with this, and bids him a polite farewell before hanging up. Just a moment later, Eskel’s phone pings with a text; it comes from the same number, and contains a time and a place.

Fuck... He didn’t even get the man’s name, for fucks sake!

Well. It’s not like he has a fucking choice now.

He eats his cereal, then gets ready.

When the time comes, the address leads Eskel out of the city to a very large and very imposing _mansion_ nestled away in the countryside.

He pulls through the front gate slowly; his old beater of a car looks _way_ out of place there.

Lambert Shaw waits for him on the steps. He points Eskel away, to an out-of-the-way place to park.

“Eskel, was it?” Lambert says as Eskel comes to meet him on the stairs.

They shake hands. “Yeah. And it’s Lambert, right?”

Lambert smirks. “You got it. C’mon. The boss is waiting.”

Eskel swallows.

They go into the house. Eskel follows Lambert closely. Just like his car, Eskel feels out of place, like he doesn’t belong there.

There are people lounging around the house. Men in suits stand around, eyes continuously scanning over the crowd, keeping watch. The others seem to be there only to enjoy the luxury of it all.

Upstairs, Eskel is shown into an office.

There’s a man there, dressed in a neon yellow suit, pacing around as he talks on the phone. He smiles when he sees his guests, speaking to them in gestures; _welcome, please have a seat, I’ll be done in a moment._ Eskel shuffles over and sits down before the large desk. Lambert moves to the small bar. He pours two glasses of whiskey, and makes an offering gesture to Eskel as well, but Eskel declines with a shake of his head. Lambert hands one glass to the third man, then sits in the second chair in front of the desk.

As promised, _the boss_ is finished with his call in a minute. He sets the phone aside and smiles at Eskel again.

“Eskel,” he says. “I’m glad you came.”

Eskel clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I... I really just came to tell you that while I appreciate the offer, I can’t take the job,” he declares raptly, before he can let himself wimp out. “I’m just- I really do have all the respect in the world for sex workers, I do, but I-I-I just don’t thinks that’s me. So. Um. Yeah.”

Lambert is staring at him.

The boss is staring too.

They both look rather confused.

“I’m- Uh. Excuse me?” the boss says, almost hesitant. “Sex work? Who said sex work? I mean, I’m not going to say I’m not in that line of business as well, because I do employ some very lovely people for such reasons, but...where did you get that idea? That that’s what you’re here about?”

Now Eskel is the one who is confused.

It...wasn’t about sex work? But...

“I just- I dunno. It...made sense? No one told me what kinda job it was a-and Lambert shows up with someone knew every time he’s at the restaurant, and that woman, she said something about _trying me out,_ so... It just seemed like it made sense. _I guess?”_

The boss hums with understanding, but smiles. “I see. Well, with the lack of details, I suppose I can’t blame you for trying to make sense of things,” he admits. “But don’t worry. That’s not the sort of job I’d like to offer you.”

“Oh,” Eskel lets out.

He is extremely relieved, though perhaps a little embarrassed about his assumption.

“My friend, the woman you met, from the restaurant? Well, she told me how candid you were with her and I was very impressed,” the man behind the desk continues. “Candor is something I admire in people. What I’d like to hire you for is, I suppose, something like an errand boy. A lot of my business is done in person but of course, I can’t be in two places at once, so I would like you to act as a sort of messenger. You’d have all sorts of little jobs, but I suppose you’d mostly act as security at my establishment, represent my interests, and some such things. How do you feel about that?”

Eskel swallows. Well. It’s better than being a hooker, right? And it’s almost like what he had thought to renegotiate to! Working security, and stuff!

“Um. H-How’s the pay? The woman, she said it’d pay better than the restaurant.”

The boss smiles behind his glass of whiskey. “Well. You said you make around about eight dollars an hour, so let’s be conservative and say you make eight dollars, flat, per hour, eight hours per day, five days a week. That’s three-hundred and twenty dollars. Plus tips, let’s say you make four hundred dollars. That’s four hundred dollars per week, four weeks per month, that’s one thousand six hundred dollars per months, twelve months per year, which comes to nineteen thousand two hundred dollars per year. Am I in the right area?”

Eskel bites his cheek. Yeah. Yeah, he’s right on the money, pretty literally.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Alright, then. I’ll pay you a thousand dollars per week, four weeks per month, twelve months per year. That’s fifty-two thousand dollars. Per year. And me? I’m pretty liberal with bonuses, so who knows? You may make _much_ more than that.”

Eskel almost swallows his tongue.

“Yes. I’ll take it. I’ll take the job.”

*

When Eskel gets home, Geralt is sitting on the couch, eating straight out of a half-gallon tub of ice cream.

Eskel kicks off his shoes and hangs aside his jacket. When he sits down next to Geralt, the man offers him the tub and the spoon. Eskel takes a few bites.

“I took the job.”

“Hm. Thought you weren’t gonna,” Geralt says as he takes the spoon back.

Eskel shrugs. “Yeah, me too. Turns out I had it wrong. Didn’t wanna hire me for the thing I thought they wanted to hire me for.”

“Guess that’s good.”

“Yeah. And I’m gettin’ a grand a week now.”

“Shit, really? Can you get _me_ a fuckin’ job? ‘Cause a grand a week sounds damn good.”

Eskel chuckles.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been three months since Eskel got his new job.

In that time, he has come to realize _exactly_ who it is he’s working for, _and_ what kind of business he runs. Hard not to, when he’s the boss’ errand boy. He doesn’t bring it up, though.

In that time, he also got Geralt a new job; though, Geralt’s more security than anything else. Good thing he’s so good at looking mean. That’s half his job done just by him standing around.

They work together most of the time. Jaskier quickly caught on to the fact that they work best together, so he lets them.

And despite the sometimes unpleasant business they do, Eskel… Eskel likes his job.

*

There’s a party tonight.

Geralt isn’t there; for once, they’ve been split up.

Eskel watches the front door of the mansion.

Every time new guests come to the door, they show him their phone; he scans the QR code and if it comes up green, they get to come inside. If it comes up red, they either leave or they are forcibly removed. So far, no one has had to be _removed._

It’s almost midnight, and the arrivals have slowed to a trickle. Seems like most of the people are going to show up, _have_ showed up. Eskel sits down on the steps and lights a cigarette. A few of the other security guys come out too, giving him a couple beers and some snacks to tide him over, and join him for a smoke, but for the most part, he sits alone.

There’s music coming from inside; he hears muted talking. It might be nice to join the party for a while, sure, but he prefers being out here. The loud music and the crowd, it would probably get on his nerves real quick. Without Geralt there for Eskel to glue himself to, Eskel would spiral out of control in no time at all.

He gets up and paces aimlessly around the driveway, stretching his legs. He checks his watch. Just a few hours left until his replacement gets here. He can’t wait to go home and just fucking _collapse_ into bed.

There comes a loud thud, and glass shattering, from the upper floor of the house.

Eskel stops, eyes going up, searching for the source of the noise. He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears someone scream.

Then, everything happens very quickly and his brain disconnects from his body, and he seems to float out of his body to watch it all happen from the outside.

Something crashes through an upstairs window and falls to the ground, landing on all fours unbothered by the long drop. It lifts it’s head and if it weren’t for the shock-red eyes, the disfigured features, and vicious teeth, it would almost look like Lambert.

In the blink of an eye, the monster is on top of Eskel and it’s pulling and ripping at him, but there’s not really any pain, maybe he’s just too disconnected, he can’t really feel anything at all until he tastes blood in his mouth and that’s when all the pain hits at once. He hears himself screaming, but it’s cut short when the beast swipes at his head, shutting him up, burning pain spreading across his face now too. There must be blood in his eyes because everything looks sort of red.

When he blinks, Lambert really does appear above him, but he’s covered in blood, did he get attacked too? He talking, his mouth is moving, but Eskel can’t connect the movements of his lips to the sounds he’s making.

More people appear all around him; he recognizes some of them, he’d let them into the party earlier in the night, and Jaskier is there and he’s talking on the phone, yes, good, Eskel probably needs an ambulance, it feels like he might need an ambulance.

Okay, he’s going to go to sleep for a little bit now.

*

Eskel opens his eyes.

He does not recognize the room he wakes up in.

He shivers at the cold. Fuck, someone needs to turn up the heating. He wraps one of the covers around himself and hopes that will help.

His head hurts. Everything seems a little too bright and a little too loud, and his body feels sort of…not quite right.

His stomach rumbles, his mouth feels like he swallowed a desert.

“Hello?” he groans, hoping someone will hear him. _“Hello?”_

A moment passes, then a woman saunters into the room like she owns it. She comes directly to his side, and sits on the bed with him.

“Hello,” she says. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Es-Eskel. Volkov.”

“Good, that’s good. My name is Yennefer,” she tells him. “Now, can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

Eskel swallows. His eyes fall closed as he tries to remember. “I was…watchin’ the door. The-… The party. And then…someone was screamin’. Somethin’, somethin’ hit me. And…there was blood all over.”

Yennefer nods. “Yes, that’s basically the jist of it. And now, I need to tell you some things that might be hard to swallow.”

She talks, and Eskel listens.

And…it is indeed rather hard to swallow.

Werewolves. Vampires. Witches. Dopplers. Sirens. Banshees. And many, many more.

Currently, only the first two mattered, because… Lambert is a werewolf. And the party was during a full-moon. And Lambert lost control. And he attacked Eskel. And Eskel almost died, but to save his life, Jaskier called Yennefer, a vampire, who came as quickly as she could and she bit Eskel and turned him into a vampire.

Eskel is a vampire.

Eskel is a fucking vampire.

He almost died at the hands of a werewolf and now he is a vampire.

“You can’t go home,” Yennefer tells him. “Not yet. As a newborn, you will have a hard time controlling yourself. It might now feel like it now, but when you are faced with a human, your urge to drink their blood with overtake you. Since I’m rather sure you would prefer not to kill your friends and family, you can’t go home. You’ll need to stay with me for a while, so I can help you learn to control yourself and keep your thirst in check. It will likely take you a few weeks.”

Eskel nods. He’s… He wants to go home, but the last thing he would ever want to do, is hurt Geralt or anyone else.

“Can- Um, can I call? Someone? My friend. He’ll… He’ll worry.”

The woman smiles. “I’ll go get you a phone. You should call Jaskier too. And Lambert. Lambert, especially. As I understand, he feels horrible about what happened.”

She gets up and leaves the room. She returns momentarily though, and sits with him while he calls Jaskier and Lambert. Jaskier tells him how sorry he is that something like this happened, and he will do anything and everything in his power to help Eskel in any way he needs, if there’s anything Jaskier can do then just say the word. Lambert has a hard time talking, but Eskel can hear how choked up he is, and understands that he really never meant for this to happen; Eskel supposes he can’t blame him. It was an accident, there’s nothing to be done about it.

For anyone else it might be hard to tell, but Eskel can hear the worry in Geralt’s voice when he answers the phone. He wonders where Eskel is, why he didn’t come home, why he didn’t call, did something happen, is Eskel okay; Eskel smiles and lies. He says everything is alright, he meant to call but he got swept up in some urgent business for the boss, he had to go out of town in a hurry and he’ll be gone for a while, he doesn’t know how long, but he’ll call Geralt as often as he can.

Vampire 101 starts as soon as he hangs up the phone.

It feels like it’s going to be a long few weeks, but as it turns out, it won’t matter much, since apparently now he’s got the rest of eternity.


End file.
